


Two Steps Forward (No Going Back)

by grimcognito



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Asthma, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Junkrat and Roadhog are part of Overwatch, M/M, Tattoos, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-14
Updated: 2016-09-14
Packaged: 2018-08-15 00:22:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8034745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grimcognito/pseuds/grimcognito
Summary: New tattoos, weak lungs, and fluff. So much fluff.





	1. Chapter 1

“I gotta see it again, Hoggie!” Junkrat said, giggling under his breath as he peeled back the protective sheet covering his tattoo. Roadhog was surprised he’d actually managed to wait the required two hours to do so. 

He was also glad he’d had the foresight to shove Junkrat into a shower and scrub him clean before their trip to the tattoo parlor. At least the risk for an infection was lower now. His own tattoo was still covered, and he’d leave it that way until they were back at the base. The spot on his back, right below the base of his neck, still ached a bit, but it was easy enough to ignore.

Junkrat grinned down at his concave stomach, hands framing the freshly inked skin around his navel. The skin around the tattoo was bright red, and Roadhog was honestly impressed that the adorable little pig face looked perfectly even despite how much Junkrat wriggled around while getting it done. They’d have to come back to this place if they decided to get more tattoos. Not many could handle the hurricane that was an excited Junkrat. 

A waggle of singed eyebrows was all the warning Rodhog got before Junkrat moved his thumbs to reveal a little inked banner above the pig that read ‘CRISPY’ in bold letters. Roadhog snorted, then chuckled, unable to stop it, until he was scaring nearby pedestrians as his body shook with hoarse laughter. Junkrat’s cackling joined his, knee-slapping and all, until they were slumped against each other and catching their breath. “Made ya laugh, Mako.” 

“Dumbass.” Roadhog growled out as he stood up straight. His grin gave him away though, even with the medical mask hiding his mouth, not that he’d had a chance after that laughing fit anyway. His chest felt a little tight, but they’d be back to the base soon enough. 

Junkrat’s wide grin had softened into a smile and he looked up at Roadhog. “What d’ya think? We make a right nice pair now, yeah?”

Roadhog ruffled Junkrat’s hair, humming in agreement. Junkrat curled his fingers over Roadhog’s thick wrist and nuzzled against his palm, bright eyes crinkled at the edges. 

Those eyes took on mischievous gleam and Roadhog narrowed his own eyes behind his sunglasses, already suspicious. He felt Junkrat’s metal fingers slowly sliding up his flank and he palmed Junkrat’s face, pushing him away with a snort.

“Aw, c’mon! You wouldn’t show me in the shop! I want to see what you got!” Junkrat complained. 

“When we’re back at the base, you can see it.” Roadhog said, already leading the way once more. Junkrat followed, the click-thump of his steps a familiar, if not quite steady, beat. 

“How come?” 

“Sun damage.” 

Junkrat paused at that, then quickly caught up again. “Right. Guess that makes sense, with it on yer back an’ all.” He plucked at the hem of Roadhog’s tank top and Roadhog brushed his hand away lest he get any ideas about reaching up to peek again. 

Before Junkrat could look rejected at the motion--though it was a fifty-fifty chance of him getting offended or not on any given day--Roadhog caught the metal hand and held it in his own. Holding hands had the double benefit of being both pleasant to do and making it easier to keep his rowdy little partner out of trouble. 

Make that three benefits, Junkrat also had a tendency to get a splotchy pink flush and look stunned at the open affection. Which meant a few minutes of blissful peace before he regained his bearings. It worked like a charm. 

He turned a corner, almost to the edge of the city, when an old woman took a deep drag from her cigar and let out a thick plume of smoke, blowing it upward to avoid the teen she was lecturing. Normally, it wouldn’t make any difference, Roadhog was used to filthy air, his mask filtered it all to protect his lungs wherever he went. It wasn’t until he took a breath and it burned all the way down, his chest seizing up, that he remembered he was only wearing a flimsy layer of cloth as protection. 

Doubling over, one arm braced against the rough brick of the wall, he snarled and coughed hard enough to scare the woman and the no-longer-apathetic teen up the steps into their home as quick as they could go. He stumbled forward a few more steps, away from the dissipating cloud of smoke and tried to breathe in, but forceful coughs interrupted every breath. Beside him, Junkrat was babbling frantically and pulling at the hand covering Roadhog’s mouth. 

Roadhog moved to push him away, his vision already going spotted, but Junkrat ducked under his arm and shoved a device over his mouth. Snarling through a cough, Roadhog curled his hand around Junkrat’s waist, ready to yank him bodily away so he could get some damned air, when he was finally able to suck in a full breath. He could hear a low hiss between coughing fits; the release of pressurized air as Junkrat rambled a few inches away from his face. 

Looking unusually focused, Junkrat glanced between Roadhog’s eyes and the half mask he was holding against his face where he was controlling the flow of canistered air. “--and the Doc told me I wasn’t likely to use this! Tried to give me a damned inhaler! Like slapping a cotton ball on a bullet wound! So I fixed up this swimmin’ mask, since we ain’t likely t’jump in the water any time soon, yeah? Made it loads better! Just for a situation like this.” 

Another nervous glance and off-tone chuckle as Roadhog’s breathing slowly began to even out. “Okay, right, steady. You good? I can go take down that old bag, she had a mean look in ‘er eye! Be doin’ the world a favor with that one.” 

Roadhog took a deep, only slightly rattling, breath and tightened his hand around Junkrat’s waist in a gentle squeeze. When that flighty attention was focused in on him again, Roadhog shook his head. “Base.” 

“Yeah, yeah. Back to the base. Gotcha.” Junkrat nodded, this new goal resetting his focus. He wiggled his way under Roadhog’s arm, making sure Roadhog had taken hold of the mask and was keeping pressure on the canisters before he let go. “Alright, let’s get to movin’, big guy.”

Roadhog stayed as steady as he could, the canisters doing their part to keep him on his feet. The rest was willpower and the knowledge that Junkrat was smart enough to know he couldn’t hold up Roadhog’s weight. He’d shouldered himself right under Roadhog’s arm as if to help support him, but really, he knew Roadhog wouldn’t risk crushing him and used it to his advantage to keep him on his feet. Damn the kid. Sneakier than anyone gave him credit for. 

Grudgingly impressed at the little shit, Roadhog pulled another breath of medicated air and kept moving.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn’t until Junkrat faceplanted into his bed that he remembered the tattoo. With a grunt, he rolled over to take the pressure off the sensitive skin of his belly. They’d given him some sort of cream to put on it, but he couldn’t be bothered to find the little tube in his pockets. Too much effort. 

The other bed creaked as Roadhog sat on it, and Junkrat flung out his flesh arm, reaching across the space between their beds without looking. A moment later, a large, rough hand bumped against his and Junkrat blindly curled his fingers around two of Roadhog’s much thicker ones. 

“You’re good, Mako. Doc gave us the all-clear. Yer shitty lungs’ll last another day.” His giggle died out too quick, and he swallowed instead. 

“It’s happened before. Worse, even.” Roadhog’s voice was back to it’s usual rumble. None of the ugly chest-deep crackling from earlier, even without his mask on. 

Junkrat rolled suddenly to his side, scowling up at his partner, though his hand tightened it’s grip on Roadhog’s. “And I’ve been hackin’ up blood for as long as I can remember! She fixed that! Took all the lumps out of my belly just fine!”

Warm brown eyes were far less intimidating than the glassy lenses of his mask, but Roadhog still managed the same flat look somehow, staring at Junkrat until his breath stopped coming in furious heaves. Junkrat slumped on his side and stared at their hands, Roadhog’s thumb brushing over the bumps of his knuckles far more lightly than he seemed capable of. “Doesn’t make a lick of sense. Shoulda been able to fix you up too.” 

Roadhog sighed and gave Junkrat’s hand a light tug, prompting him to roll off his bed. He felt like a limp noodle, muscles sore from the last trek up the hill toward the base, regretting leaving the bike in the garage, repairs be damned, with every step that ground his stump against the metal of his prosthetic. Roadhog might have been moving on his own, but Junkrat had been the one to keep him steady, and uphill wasn’t easy for either of them. Two steps and one more tug and Junkrat fell gratefully against Roadhog, who gathered him up, uncooperative limbs and all.

The world tilted as Roadhog tipped back onto the bed, taking Junkrat with him, sprawled over his belly. “Can’t fix everything.” 

Junkrat huffed, unimpressed at the state of the world in general, and shifted to get more comfortable. He crossed his arms over Roadhog’s chest and pointed a metal finger far too close to his nose. “None of ‘em have the right motivation then. Me an’ wot’s his name, the big hairy one--”

“Winston.”

“Right, right. Him. We’ve been lookin’ into it, when he gives me them fancy chemistry lessons. Seems like there’s old research on it, we’ll find somethin’ that’ll help.”

Roadhog grunted in either agreement or disbelief, Junkrat wasn’t sure which, so he squinted at him suspiciously. All he got in return was a blank look, so he let himself get distracted by Roadhog’s face. It was nice seeing him without the mask more often. The base was kept clean, so he often went without while they were in their rooms. Thanks to his mask, Roadhog’s face was a few shades lighter than his ears, which amused Junkrat to no end, and there was the start of some silver stubble since he hadn’t shaved that morning. He reached out to poke at a golden tusk peeking up from Roadhog’s mouth and laughed as he yanked his hand back before it could be knocked away. 

“You’re staring.” Roadhog growled. 

Junkrat cackled, pushing himself up a bit just so he could point at Roadhog more dramatically. “Pot.” He jerked his thumb at himself. “Kettle!” 

Roadhog rolled his eyes at the laughing heap of a man on top of him and rolled, tipping Junkrat off onto the bed and poked him in the belly, right where his tattoo was. His laughter cut off with a yelp and Junkrat swatted at Roadhog’s hand. “Oi!”

“You should wash it and put some cream on.” 

“Ugh.” Junkrat rocked with the motion of the bed as Roadhog stood up, not eager to move, then shot up like a rocket when his memory kicked back into gear. “I still haven’t seen yours yet!”

Roadhog huffed a soft laugh as he headed into the bathroom they shared. “Hurry up and you can help me with it.” 

Junkrat jumped to his feet, aches not exactly forgotten but easily ignored now that he had something to look forward to. Roadhog was already at the sink lathering up some soap between his hands, and motioned Junkrat over with a jerk of his head. Junkrat squeezed in past him and hopped up to sit on the counter beside the sink. He shoved his shorts a little lower on his hips to give Roadhog some room and leaned back with a wide grin and a thumbs up. 

His reward was a grunt and a wet slap of a hand against his stomach, which turned into gentle rubbing before Junkrat could get too indignant. Sufficiently lathered, Junkrat tried not to squirm impatiently as Roadhog wiped the soap away with a few swipes of his hand, rinsing suds off between each one. Nice a this was, he wanted to know what Roadhog had been so secretive about! 

Washing done, Junkrat dug out the tube of cream from his pocket and squeezed a dollop onto his palm, rubbing it into his inked skin hastily. “Done! Finished! Now lemme see!” 

Roadhog shook his head, but sat down on the lid of the toilet seat so Junkrat could reach. Junkrat resisted the urge to rip away the covering. The tape was made to come off easy and wouldn’t hurt, but Roadhog might be less likely to let Junkrat help him if he did, so he carefully peeled it away. He paused at the sight of the tattoo, the plastic sheet of the covering limp in his hand. 

The design was one he’d drawn a few days ago, when they’d first discussed going into town for new tattoos. He’d found a stubby pencil in their room and scribbled out the design of a bomb, similar to the ones he painted for himself, but instead of the usual smiley face, he’d put a little cartoony rat face, grinning wide. He’d crumpled it up and tossed it in the trash when Roadhog had simply stared at it, laughing to cover how disappointed he was his partner didn’t like the design. 

Apparently, Roadhog had liked it after all. The lines were cleaner and bolder, but the design was definitely his. Junkrat ran his finger along the edge of the bomb’s curve, too stunned to speak. It didn’t last long though, and words crowded up in his throat, choking him up, it was the only explanation for his chest feeling tight and his stomach all fluttery. 

“Really, Mako?” He managed.

Roadhog turned his head enough to see Junkrat out of the corner of his eye, his mouth turned up in a slight smile. “Yeah, Jamie. Really.” 

Junkrat flung his arms around Roadhog’s shoulders, grinning against his neck. “You big ol’ sap!” 

“Shut up and wash it.” Roadhog growled. Junkrat ignored him and hugged tighter, planting a loud kiss on his skin before sitting back and grabbing the soap. 

He rubbed it between his palms, lathering them up just like Roadhog had. “Gonna take good care of this. Ain’t nothin’ else like it in the world.” 

Roadhog shook his head. “Dramatic.” he said, tone bland, but Junkrat knew he was smiling. Hands covered in fluffy clouds of soap, he grinned and got to work.

**Author's Note:**

> I like the idea of Roadhog having capped or implanted teeth that are metal tusks. Junkrat is fascinated by them and as always, wants to touch everything. 
> 
> Just as a general note, I always headcanon Junkrat to be 30 and Mako to be 38 since I'm not a huge fan of large age differences. I never really touch on it, so feel free to ignore that if you want. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
